


you're back in the space you should have been, where I was building something new

by brawltogethernow



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse)
Genre: (past) - Freeform, Canonical Character Death, Dimension Travel, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mentorship, Reality Bending, Secret Wars (2015), Universe Alteration, addressed via clumsy feelings jam, in-universe but also inspired by but doesn't align with the comics, no computers were murdered in the making of this ficlet, the comic book band-aiding thereof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23260438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawltogethernow/pseuds/brawltogethernow
Summary: Every teen has a point in their life where they feel weird about how they migrated from their home universe to another one and no one remembers anything was ever different but them.
Relationships: Ganke Lee & Miles Morales, Miles Morales & Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	you're back in the space you should have been, where I was building something new

**Author's Note:**

> Phone fic - *peggle 2 gif voice* - TWO!

It's _weird_ having Peter alive. And a grown up.

"Right," says Ganke. "Because he used to be dead, in a similar but different world we lived in, except only you remember it."

" _Yes,_ " insists Miles. Being a superhero is the best thing ever. It is also, absolutely and without challenge, the worst. "Shut up, man. Listen. Remember how we used to get in trouble trying to get the stuff for my web fluid?"

Ganke looks up at him and raises one eyebrow, fingers not slowing down where he's typing code on his laptop now that he's doing it blind. It's been on its last legs for a while, but today he insisted that he was going to revive it, "like Lazarus", and has been opening more and more esoteric windows for hours. Miles has been watching this hunkered on the ceiling above him. When it needs to load they break to actually do homework. "When we used stuff from the school science labs, and they thought we were making drugs? And you almost got expelled? It rings a bell."

"Why didn't we just ask Peter—a nice, adult Spider-Man—for help? Just leave a window open, let him throw some polymers through."

"Uh..." Ganke's face goes through the expression version of reaching out to grab something you absolutely expect to be there and coming up empty. "Because... Because you wanted to be independent?"

"Come on, man. With lives on the line, all the time? And how long did it take me to even get webs again?"

"But— That's because—"

"Wanted, man!" Miles waves his hands around, really getting into this. " _Wanted_ nothing. I didn't WANT to be independent. I had no choice. It was just me."

Ganke looks unnerved. He's actually stopped typing, dragging one finger back and forth next to the trackpad instead. "...Where are you going with this, Miles?"

"Now— Now, see, I said something to Peter about that, just making conversation, and he was like," he affected a voice, "'OH, my sweet summer child, I am so sorry. The things they have done to you. Here.' And now I have this."

CLANK

He tugs the backpack he swung back to their dorm with off his bunk and drops it onto the ground, then lands next to it. They both lean over it to look inside.

"That is...a LOT of web fluid ingredients," observes Ganke.

"Yes it is."

"Like, a lot. Just so much."

"He said, 'There's no reason this should be a source of your problems, this is like, level 1 spider-outfitting.' And then he went into his closet and hauled out just the biggest beat up cardboard box of random chemicals I've ever seen. I think he skims them from his lab work, or buys them in bulk from the same place the university does, or something. Ha! Bet nobody thinks HE'S making meth."

"Yeah, tell me about it," mumbles Ganke. He looks miffed for a few seconds, then sighs and visibly shrugs it off. "Isn't this...a good thing?"

"Yeah, it's just— It's just weird, man. It's not a bad thing. It's just weird."

Ganke's neglected laptop bleats unhappily and starts up a quiet alarm sound.

"Is it supposed to be doing that?" asks Miles.

"It's fine," says Ganke, but he also slams into his desk chair and feverishly resumes typing.

"Okay, well, _that's_ not a yes," Miles says under his breath.

"So what about weirdness?" prompts Ganke, fingers flying.

"Like, it's _not_ a bad thing, is the thing, it's actually great, mostly! It's just I'm the only person who even remembers there was a worse way things were before at all and— For real, do you need a hand?"

"It's fine, man, keep talking, unload your problems," says Ganke, not looking up from his laptop, which is making a long, uninterrupted error sound. He smacks it with the flat of his hand two times.

"Um..."

"So that does sound rough," says Ganke.

BWAAAAAAAAHHHH, says Ganke's computer.

"Seriously, is it—"

"Anyway, since you remember this thing and I don't," says Ganke, raising his voice slightly to talk over both his computer and Miles, "so— But you said you're not the only one who does?"

"...Peter," says Miles. "You think I should talk to Peter."

"About something that's not shop, yeah. You have a cool adult in your corner—might as well see if that's as useful as the TV specials say it is."

"Is it seriously gonna be that obvious... Is that thing smoking?"

Ganke shoots him a double thumbs up. "Go for it, man!" he talk-shouts. The laptop is definitely smoking. "And you might as well go do it now; you better get out of here _just_ in case my computer blows up."

" _You just said it was fine!_ "

"It's _probably_ fine," reassures Ganke, rolling his eyes as he rises and starts to shove Miles toward the window. "I just don't want to maim New York's finest in the narrow chance that it isn't."

"I don't know about fi— Shouldn't you _want_ a superhero around for— You think you're going to get _maimed?_ "

" _No,_ it's fine. Get out; I need to concentrate."

 _BWEEWEEWEEEEEEEEEWOPWOPditBWAAAAAAH,_ insists the computer.

"Did you reinvent dial-up? Is this what dial-up sounds like?"

"No, that sounds way worse than this. Don't get caught sneaking out this time."

"Yeah, I don't think there's anything in Peter's closet for _that_ problem."

"Hey, you never know, dude. Ask him if he has a spider-cloaking device he's not using anymore." Then, under his breath: "Maybe a spare computer."


End file.
